MISCELLANY

          This is a morning so quiet that I can hear myself chewing my gum.  My blinds are still closed, so I don't even know exactly what the weather is like, except that Weather Bug tells me there's a 40 per cent chance of mixed rain and snow.  So be it.  I'm not going anywhere today.  Even the dog hasn't wandered in yet this morning; he knows I won't stir from my sewing/study room for another 40 minutes to do anything interesting like take him for a walk or fill his food bowl, so why stir from his warm nest on the couch? 
           I've been reflecting this morning on how ironic life can be sometimes.  Following through on a New Year's resolution, I've tried to replace mindless internet surfing with working on genealogy.  While working on the Shurtleff line, I came across this ironic obituary:  The following is taken from a newspaper clipping of Mar 18, 1826: "Died in Carver, Mass, on the 6th of January, Mr Abiel Shurtleff, aged 93 years. So late as the 21st of December, this aged pilgrim walked to Plymout, a distance of nine miles in four hours, where he passed several days, remarking among other things, the he had reaped in his native fields eighty two summers, where in his youth he had seen wigwams and aged sachems. and that he had been a soldier in the campaigns of the ware of 1756 at Crown Point.  Abiel Shurtleff Sr died on 6 January 1826 at Carver, Plymouth, MA, USA, at age 93. Mr Shurtleff walked to Plymouth on "Forefather's Day," sat upon Pilgrim Rock and took a severe cold which resulted in his death.   I laughed aloud when I read this, on one level marveling the he could, at 93, walk nine miles in four hours, but also remembering how shocked I was when I saw his sitting rock for myself about 7 years ago.

                  I love this room I'm in this morning; it's my sewing room--my nest, my spot.  My husband created the room for me a few years ago.  It's reflective of my interests--computer at one end, sewing machine at the other.  Soft office chair for me, old oak straight-backed chair for Tom to sit in when he drops by all through the day as he works on his own "stuff."  Wine red walls, lace curtains, cluttered, scattered, unfinished projects here and there...me.  Grandson Vale asks often in family prayer for God to bless me while I do "Grandma Things."  If forced to define Grandma Things, he probably wouldn't be able to do so.  He knows I'm busy at my sewing machine or computer in all my leisure time, and you know what they are because I've told you often in these blogs.  Vale received this Grandma Thing just recently 

                     Until a few days ago, four large oak bookcases lined one wall.  They seemed to loom large, ovewhelming the room, catch-alls for miscellaneous "stuff."  We moved the bookcases into the living room and replaced them with a quilters' dream--a design wall.  A design wall is a pallette for me to work on sewing projects.  You can see six projects on the wall--my some days.  The catch-all with the oval handle is a gift from sister filled with pins, scissors, etc.  The seven red, white, and blue blocks are the beginnings of a Quilt of Valor for our son-in-law, Ben, who has served two deployments to Afghanistan.  See the Mormon temple block??  It's a rough design for a memorative something--the temple is Idaho Falls where we were married 41 years ago.  The small yellow and green block will find its way into a sewing machine cover I'm making for my sister, the tulip block into a pillow or machine cover for myself, and the longer piece is a table runner I started and don't know how to finish.  At the top,  are six little crocheted cups and saucers.  My mother made those in the last few weeks of her life.  I need to design something for them as well.  Thank heaven for sweet ironies in life, sweet husbands and children who pray you'll have good health to do your "Grandma Things," and projects to do and enjoy to keep yourself young.  AND a red room to do them in.  Love from here.  Mom

 

Listen to your heart. Even though it's on your left side, it will always be right! :)

 

                  

                

ON TURNING FIFTY

            No...not me.  I turned fify almost twenty years ago.  This time the one turning fifty is our oldest son, Mark.  I met Mark nearly forty years ago as the new bride of his dad.  We met at SeaTac Airport in Seattle.  Waiting for him to walk off the plane was a nerve-wracking ordeal filled with insecurity and doubts.  How would he feel about me?  Would he be accepting of me?

No need to have worried!!  He took hold of my hand and never looked back.  In fact, he talked all the way home, telling me the plot of a B movie called Freebie and the Bean, a blood and guts R-rated movie. Mark has loved me unconditionally and always treated me tenderly and with respect.  Today, he's a successful businessman, happily married,  father of three beautiful daughters and grandfather of 2.  Happy Fiftieth, Dear Mark.
             We Kennedys like February birthdays, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY to: Ivan, Connor, Ben, Nicole, and Brenna as well as Mark.

                 We're back to our normal, if dull, routine.  After seven days off school because of illness and snow, Vale was grateful to get back to his second semester at Columbia High.  He was recruited into Choir class and returned to band class as well.  There should be some joyful noises around our house now.  We've had a couple more days of power outages which seem to be caused by an ongoing feud between our local public utility district and Bonneville Power. We're keeping a list of lessons we've learned by "roughing it."  Lesson Number One is to put emergency supplies where we can find them in the dark.  Poor Vale stumbled around trying to find flashlights and candles which were scattered all over the house.
             Just recently, we had a lesson in our church class about procrastination.  The teacher, who always has us laughing one minute and crying the next, did an excellent job of making us squirm in our seats.  She got my Guilt Quotient up, and I determined to make up for lost time.  I started by determining to organize and clean out the shelves in my sewing room/office. First chore was a large stack of unfiled, loose papers.  Aha...I pulled out file folders and looseleaf binders to get those errant strays back into their proper order.  A choice, choice experience...better than any game of solitaire.  The stack proved to be unorganized pages of journals from years ago, pieces of my writing from as far back as 1963, letters to our missionary and our exchange students.  The afternoon flew by, and by the time I had everything properly organized, I was renewed and refreshed with not a guily pang in sight.
                 Life is good right now.  Tom, who's been prowling the house like a caged animal, can now get outside and move on with his projects.  He's even sneaking off to the woods to see if the snow has melted enough to allow him to start cutting wood.  Fun times...much love and happiness at our house, hoping the same for all of you.
Love from here.  Mom

"Some people are so poor that the only thing they have is money."